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Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
If life gives you lemons
just be thankful it’s not a lime,
and when squeezing it
avoid getting the juice in your eye this time.
Leng Apr 2023
I feel winter's grasp around the very being of my soul.
It twists and turns with a desperation and tenacity that uncouths my being.
Trying to squeeze out any pulp or sustenance whenever it's convienent.
Although already spoiled and soured and bitter, it must'nt stop for there has to be more.
There's always more to take, even if all the lemons are gone.
Go farther into the roots, tap into the sap that runs along its trunk and branches.
Life has given me lemons so why not take every single one of them for a glass of lemonade?
My leaves turn yellow with fear but I must continue to keep giving.
To keep producing lemons, to keep the leaves green.
For if I can't anymore then what is my use? Where shall I quench my thirst?
The gardener who provides water and shelter shall surely cut down my tree if it no longer provides and only takes space.
But what is a lemon tree to demand such intricacies?
Haven't written poems in a few years. Wrote this and tweaked it a little within 40-45 minutes. Hope you like it.
Salem Crane Jan 2022
The sun rises high to the peak of the sky.
At last I sit and rest.
I mix my rye with citrus most dry
and clutch it to my breast.

I feel the cold burn my joints, so old,
and know that I’ve been blessed,
for to see what’s told of that glittering gold
has me quite possessed.

I raise my glass to the world en masse
and think of my last request.
I feel it pass, that moment alas,
and feel my soul arrest.

The sun sinks low, the day grows slow,
and begins, the edge, to crest.
The darkness does grow and I’ve nothing to show.
The day is not impressed.

As the end draws near I shiver with fear,
my fortitude stands suppressed.
I watch stars appear, their light so dear,
remembering dreams unexpressed.

The sun leaves the sky, my throat is so dry,
I’m wholly dispossessed.
With one final sigh and a tear in my eye,
I drink the last of the zest.
Terra Levez May 2021
We open the halves of a miracle
an extract from the poem Ode to a Lemon by Pablo Neruda
Jaicob May 2021
Lemons into lemonade...
That's what they tell me.
It's so hard to make lemonade
When your wrists want to bleed.
The juice stings my flesh
And I just want to end.
The scars remain on my flesh
A reminder of my friend.
Pain is the only one I can tell
Nothing else is real.
Other people will spill and tell
The secret of how I feel.

Lemons into lamentation
That's all I have today-
Nothing but hopeless lamentation-
Until life stops dumping lemons on my tray.
Rea Jan 2021
Oh, I've been a shapeshifter my whole life.
Smile wide around bleeding gums.
And life didn't give us lemons,
didn't even give us that much.
I flossed and now everything tastes like blood.
Terra Levez Sep 2020
When I got lemons from Life
They told me
to make lemonade
I tried and tried
But the yellow drink kept coming red
with my hands burning
from the cuts that Life left me with
Now burning with acid
Radhika Lusted Sep 2020
When life gives you lemons
What do you say?
Do you keep them for yourself?
Or throw them away?

Will they be sour if you eat them?
Or sweet if you leave them?
You’ll never really know
If you never receive them 🍋
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Some times life gives you lemons
Sour , which trouble your sensitive tongue
The sourness goes down the throat
And leaves it's imprint behind.

But what life also teaches us after every lemon
Is that you can always drive it away
Mix the sour with sweet
And it pleases the tongue that way.
So isn't it all about finding the right flavour
Something you can savour.

So next time life gives you lemons
Look for ingredients that will dilute it's pain
And then enjoy the lemon that way.
Nina McNally Jun 2020
"Life gives you lemons, you make lemonade"....
Everyday is a new chance to
Make the best
Of your life!
Now is your chance to
Start your best you! *
Stay Strong!
Wrote back in May 2020 and just wanted to write positive.
Title by Ashley Tisdale
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